Heathers (but it's written by a gay British teenager)

Chapter 6: Why you don't ask someone how their mom died.

Veronica knew what a crush was.
It was that fizzy feeling, one that made you want to curl up into a ball and explode like a shaken up soda at the same time, where you analysed every word and action of the supposed person you were falling for, where you noticed everything, from the lightened edges of their hair to how their eyes are the perfect shade of blue in every lighting, a giggly ticking time bomb of something that is supposed to make you warm inside.
And Veronica hated feeling it.
And she was feeling it.
Standing in a dingy 7/11, the electrical hiss of the yellowing lights, the stale air making her unsure of whether it was that or the presence of the glorified emo kid in front of her that for some fucking reason she decided was the peak of her standards of datablity that making her want to retch her guts out.
Heather would make a joke about how Duke does that without needing a guy in front of her.
Sometimes I really hate her.
Actually I always hate her.
'Did you want a slurpee with that?'
Ah shit, he's talking.
Veronica looked down at her sweating palms, clasped around the crackly packet of BQ corn nuts, realising that's what 'that' was.
That's a funny sentence Veronica.
Shut up.
I'm not Duke.
'The corn nuts?'
Veronica breathed, cringing at her lack of composition when it came to 'that's-Jason-Dean-he's-in-my-American-history'.
'Yeah, do you want a slurpee with them?'
Veronica could feel her grasp on the glossy packet tighten.
BQ corn nuts, the latest symbol of Heather's puppetry on her.
Corn nuts are a strange way to show control.
Fuck off, take it up with Daniel Waters Veronica.
'Well, no, but I'll take a big gulp.'
She smiled, slowly raising her head up to face Dean. At least she could talk to him without having to worry about the ear-splintering scarlet cloud hanging over her...
'VERONICA'
Jason and Veronica stood opposite each other, eyes blank as they counted the seconds it took for Heather's voice to crack and whittle away from their eardrums.
Veronica got to 19.
She didn't bother asking Jason how many he counted.
Jason laughed, staring at Veronica in some kind of confusing way even she couldn't decipher.
I think this kid's on crack.
It's Ohio, I'm not surprised.
'You can't get a Big Gulp. You're getting a slurpee.'
So we're just going to move on from the fire alarm that's my friend? Okay.
Despite the ringing in her ears, Veronica couldn't stop herself from smiling, and the explosion of warmth in her chest. 'I think I said Big Gulp.'
'And I said cherry or lime?'
'I prefer coke.'
'Cherry's a flavour of coke.'
'Touchè, Jason.'
The second Veronica finished speaking, she noticed the way Jason's face fell, and how he attempted to pick up the pieces of it and arrange it in a decently good array.
He's a horrible actor.
'Don't call me Jason. I prefer JD.'
Shit, you fucked up.
'Oh,' Veronica's voice dropped in her own disappointment with herself, 'I'm sorry.'
'It's fine, my dad calls me Jason. Do you know him? Big bud Dean? Owns the deconstruction company, has those ads on TV, the one where the building-'
'Blows up?'
'You got it.'
'That's your dad?'
Makes sense. The gun is at least now explained.
Oh I'm about to get manspained a tragic backstory aren't I?
Heather's going to kill me.
'Well, yeah. He's pretty shit. We just kinda, move around. Work shit he calls it. I think it's the fact he can't get over his 'work shit' is the reason he doesn't have a wife anymore, and I don't have a mom.'
FUCK HIS MOM'S DEAD.
AH SHIT.
SHIT.
Don't panic Veronica it's fine.
Tread lightly.
'How did his work kill her? I mean, I thought there was safety protocol for that kind of thing.'
Veronica Sawyer, I hope you get stabbed.
Veronica pressed her lips tightly together, seeing her entire being slowly crumble and die.
WHO THE FUCK ASKS SOMEONE HOW THEIR MOM DIED?
JD was glancing at her again, but where Veronica expected distain, she saw something she could only describe as quiet and humourous curiosity while he swirled his straw around the foggy plastic lid of the cup.
'Well, my dad has this funny way of blowing shit up. Thermals packed in the upper floors, and a massive Norwegian in the basement to set things off. Kind of like a fireworks show basically. And Mom drove me to see him at work one day. Forgot to mention how she was going to leave me into the car and walk in seconds before he set things alight.' JD slammed his cup on the counter violently, making Veronica jump. She already wanted to crawl out of her skin, and Jason wasn't helping exactly.
Until she felt the cold grasp of a hand around her wrist, and the sickly scent of cherry perfume.
She couldn't decide if she was thankful Heather had come, or about to shit herself knowing how much Heather was going to scream at her when they got in her car.
Oh well.
'Veronica. We need to motor. Now.'
'Right, sorry Heather. Bye JD.'
Veronica gabbled the last part, watching as a mythic bitch stared down a blackened slurpee cult member. She couldn't decide if she wanted to cry or laugh, it truly was a sight to behold, Heather's lined blue eyes staring down JD's sleep deprived brown ones.
Heather Chandler has blue eyes.